


Sandwich

by sheafrotherdon



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Episode Tag, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-08
Updated: 2006-05-08
Packaged: 2017-10-11 23:39:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/118421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheafrotherdon/pseuds/sheafrotherdon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set immediately after Siege III: Rodney's found his bed, but something else is missing . . .</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sandwich

John leaned in the doorway of Rodney's bedroom, observing the inelegant sprawl of a physicist at rest. "You forgot something," he murmured softly.

Rodney flinched and raised his head, blinking fuzzily in John's direction. "Fzuhnah-huh?"

"Forgot something." John crossed the room and sat at the foot of the bed, pushing a tangle of sheets and blankets out of the way.

"I – " Rodney leaned on one elbow and ground the heel of his hand into his eye. "What? _Tired_."

"Saving the lost city of the Ancients'll do that to you," John offered helpfully. "But that doesn't change the fact that . . ."

"Yes, yes, _what_ did I forget – the . . . " Rodney frowned, his breath quickening as he tried to force his brain up to speed. ". . . I turned off the sub-containment fields at the second-level regeneration stations, didn't I? I swear, I remember the keystrokes, and it can't be the tertiary database console, because I saw Zelenka down there with that horrible, disastrous, _purple_ screwdriver he loves so much, and that only leaves the – "

"Rodney."

" – environmental controls on the east pier, but I know Elizabeth wanted to conserve the – "

" _Rod_ ney."

"- power in case . . . huh?" He looked at John, a perfect picture of miserable exasperation.

"You forgot your sandwich," John said, offering him a brown bag from the mess.

"My what?"

"Sandwich." John bent and began to unlace his boots.

Rodney sat up with as little coordination as it was possible for one man to possess, and feebly rummaged in the sack John had handed to him. "It's a sandwich." He looked at John blankly. "A really huge sandwich."

"I'm reliably informed that's the biggest sandwich anyone ever made in Atlantis," John said, stripping off his socks. "Course we don't know how the Ancients felt about bread and turkey, but since _we_ got here . . ."

". . . the biggest sandwich I can find," Rodney murmured, finally getting it. "Teyla told you?"

"Teyla told me." John pulled his shirt over his head.

"And uh – I . . . well, take it you're, um, you know, doing the thing with the clothes and the taking off because you plan to spend the hours between now and tomorrow's pointless briefing here, in – uh, my, with – me?" Rodney wet his lips.

John wasn't sure if the lip-wetting was for the sandwich or him, but he stood and unzipped his pants all the same, stepping out of them and throwing them on a chair. "I figured," he said, crawling up the bed with the sort of loose grace he'd long ago perfected as a cover for fatigue," that if we haven't earned a night to curl up with the world's biggest sandwich in peace? Then the whole damn galaxy can go fuck itself." He lay down, a long, weary spill of limbs and skin and white-and-grey boxer shorts.

"I – " Rodney seemed to be lost for words. "You want some of my sandwich?"

"No, Rodney," John smiled, inching in close.

"You mind if I save it 'til later?"

"Not at all." He watched as Rodney reverently stuck the sandwich back in its sack, folded the top over three times to seal in what freshness he could, and gently set it on the floor.

"I like my sandwich," Rodney murmured, thudding back against the mattress and closing his eyes with a sigh

"Me too," John laughed gently, sliding his hand beneath Rodney's shirt to rest on his stomach, listening as the snuffle of Rodney's breathing smoothed into well-earned, sandwich-blessed sleep.


End file.
